


ahead of us are plenty of unknown days

by deathsweetqueen



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Round 2 [6]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha M'Baku (Marvel), Alpha T'Challa (Marvel), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Group Marriage, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Multi, Omega Tony Stark, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen/pseuds/deathsweetqueen
Summary: “Please tell me you have some crazy plan up your sleeve to get me out of this,” Tony begs, clutching at his godmother’s hand in his lap.Peggy gives him an unbearably soft look, her thumb dragging back and forth over his pulse point.“I’m so sorry, ducky,” she says, in a low, rushed voice. “I wish I could do more for you, but I can’t.”Tony hides how much that hurts, how much it pierces all the soft undersides to him, and blinks away the sting of tears, because he’s about to be sold in marriage to two strangers all because he wasn’t born with a goddamn knot and he goes into heat once a month; he’s fucking allowed to cry if he wants.Written for the "height difference" square (R4) for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019.





	ahead of us are plenty of unknown days

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019.
> 
> Warnings: forced arranged marriage (or leading up to it at least) - Tony is not happy at all; A/B/O universe; omega!Tony; alpha!T'Challa; alpha!M'Baku; explicit mentions of omega biology.

“Please tell me you have some crazy plan up your sleeve to get me out of this,” Tony begs, clutching at his godmother’s hand in his lap.

Peggy gives him an unbearably soft look, her thumb dragging back and forth over his pulse point.

“I’m so sorry, ducky,” she says, in a low, rushed voice. “I wish I could do more for you, but I can’t.”

Tony hides how much that hurts, how much it pierces all the soft undersides to him, and blinks away the sting of tears, because he’s about to be sold in marriage to two strangers all because he wasn’t born with a goddamn knot and he goes into heat once a month; he’s fucking allowed to cry if he wants.

“But I’m here,” Peggy tries. “I won’t leave you until I know you’re safe, and these two men are good men. I promise.”

Tony shakes his head. “You can’t break Dad’s agreement,” he says, dully.

Peggy gives him a sickle-shaped smile. “You don’t want to know what I’d do for you, my darling.”

Peggy has no children, which Tony always thought was such a shame; but Peggy always said she and Uncle Daniel were content with him and now, little Sharon, whom Tony doubted he’d ever see again, if his Alphas chose to let him leave their country.

Tony gives her a weak smile. “I believe you.” He pauses, wringing his hands together. “Why Wakanda? I mean… it’s not like Dad thinks much of them, anyway. So, why-?”

Peggy sighs and leans back, her dark eyelashes fluttering over her eyelids. “A very long time ago, there was an… unlawful exchange of vibranium; do you know that?”

Tony frowns, mulling it over. “You mean… Captain Rogers’ shield?”

Peggy nods, even if the lines in her face are a little tighter at the mere mention of Steve Rogers’ name – Tony wonders what it would be like, to love someone and be loved by someone like that; now, it’s not a fate that he’ll ever be allowed.

“It was collected away from Wakandan borders, of course, and your father was… unaware or perhaps, wilfully unaware of where the vibranium came from, but it’s been a source of contention between Howard and Kings Azzuri and T’Chaka for a very long time. And well, according to Howard, this seemed the easiest way of smoothing things over.” Her lip curls. “Without him having to do any of the hard work, of course,” she scoffs.

“So, he sold me,” he says, flatly.

Peggy clutches at his hand. “I know it seems bleak-”

Tony laughs, a sour, rough sound. “Bleak is an understatement.” He shakes his head. “These people probably hate me. My future Alphas probably hate me. How am I supposed to build a life here, Aunt Peggy? How _can_ I?”

“You can, because you’re _strong_ , because you’re _smart_. I have watched you grow into this fierce young man, and I know you can handle anything that comes your way. You’re stronger than Howard, you know; that’s why you will be able to do what he can’t.”

“What if this is a trick?” Tony wonders out loud. “What if… they hate Dad so much that this is how they get their revenge?” He snorts. “Bold of them to assume I mean that much to Howard.”

Peggy squeezes his hand. “Darling, I’m not going to give you platitudes about how your father is just a complicated man but loves you very much, because you are facing the consequences of him _loving you very much_ right now. I don’t want you think about your father right now. I want you to think about yourself and only yourself, do you understand me?”

Tony draws in an audible breath and leans into the way her thin fingers thread through his hair. “Have you met them, my Alphas?”

Peggy nods, stiffly. “Once, when the deal was finalised. Your father asked me to witness the agreement for him.”

“And?” Tony pushes.

“Prince T’Challa seems like a solemn young man,” she hedges.

“That doesn’t necessarily translate to kindness,” he points out.

Peggy sighs. “Honestly, I haven’t spent enough time there to be able to tell you for sure. He doesn’t seem like a wanker, I’ll give him that. I’m sorry, ducky, I wish I could tell you more.”

“S’okay,” Tony mumbles. “And the other Alpha, M’Baku?”

“He’s… big,” Peggy says, shrugging. She waggles her eyebrows. “In terms of peak Alpha looks, it works, although I always found those things pretty rubbish.”

She looks wistful, and Tony thinks she remembers what Steve Rogers looked like before the serum – _yes_ , Tony agrees, _those things are pretty rubbish._

“Personality wise?” he asks.

“He’s… gruff, loud, ruthless, but he has a strong sense of honour and he is determined to do right by his people, even if it requires him binding himself to an omega he has never met before.”

“Why would he agree to this, then?” Tony asks, desperately. “I mean, if he doesn’t want it, want _me_ , why agree? Both of them. Why couldn’t they have just said no?”

Inwardly, Tony wants to scoff – of _course_ , one of his alphas doesn’t want him; why would he have ever thought otherwise.

“Because it’s the best way to make friends here,” Peggy says, gently. “It isn’t the kindest way, it isn’t the most preferable way, but with what we’ve got, it’s the best.” She shuffles closer. “This isn’t fair to you, I know that, and I would give anything in power to make sure you didn’t go through something like this, but I do want you to be happy.”

“And you think I can be happy here?”

“Yes,” Peggy says, confidently. “I think you can be very happy here. I’m not saying that you have put up with anything, that you have to compromise yourself in anyway, but I don’t think these men are evil. I don’t think they will hurt you the way any other hundred alphas would have. I think you could be very happy here, happier than you may have been in the States.” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s the shallow wants of an old woman, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, for you to be happy.”

Tony swallows, compulsively. “You really think I’ll be happy here?”

“I do.”

Tony nods, then.

If Aunt Peggy says it, it must be true. Aunt Peggy wouldn’t lie to him, not even to spare his feelings.

Fuck, he’ll miss her.

But, okay, he can do this; he can be happy here. He will be happy here.

Happy with his alphas, though, is a whole different story.

Tony’s grip around Peggy’s hand turns to stone. “You won’t leave though, right? You won’t… you’ll stay?”

“I won’t leave until you’re bonded, and I’m certain that you’re okay,” Peggy swears.

Tony gives her a strained smile, taut at the edges. He doubts he’ll be okay, not for a long time and only if his alphas are as good as Peggy promises they are, but he’s content to keep the lie if it makes his godmother happy.

“Director Carter.”

Peggy and Tony’s attentions are immediately drawn to the man that stands in the entrance to the cockpit; Agent Coulson, if Tony remembers correctly, but he hadn’t been able to focus on anything more than the shake to his hands and feet when he boarded the jet.

Agent Coulson gives them a steady look. “We’re approaching the South Sudan border; should I send word?”

Peggy nods. “Yes, we should give them as much notice as possible.”

“Notice?” Tony asks.

“Wakanda is… their border situation is kind of complicated,” Peggy hedges.

Tony narrows his eyes. “Complicated how?”

Peggy sighs. “They don’t like visitors, and they go out of their way to protect themselves from outsiders.”

Tony frowns. “I thought Wakanda was…” he trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Honestly, he didn’t know much about Wakanda, truth or lies, at all.

“We have to let them know that we’re coming, so they can let down their shields,” Peggy explains.

“Shields? They have shields?” Tony’s voice is grim with disbelief.

Peggy gives him a little smile. “Come with me, ducky. You won’t want to miss this,” she urges, tugging at one of his hands.

Tony goes along, willingly, to the front of the jet, into the cockpit, to the glass, where he can see the stretch of trees in front of them.

“All I see is trees,” he mutters.

Peggy squeezes his hand. “Wait for it.”

For a moment, Tony wonders if Peggy is feeling alright, until the jet hits something viscous, like a sheen of jelly, and it gives way, revealing the cityscape of a city that draws a strangled sound from Tony’s throat, like a cat dying.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims.

Peggy laughs her raspy, chain smoker laugh, and pats him on the shoulder. “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” she says, knowingly.

Tony shakes his head, hand splaying out over the cool glass. “This can’t be real, it just _can’t_.”

“It is, Tony; this is what I meant when I said Wakanda didn’t like outsiders.”

Tony finds himself nodding. “I wouldn’t like outsiders either, if I had this in my backyard.” He licks his lips. “And one of my alphas, he’s going to inherit _all_ of this?” he asks, disbelievingly.

“Well, it depends,” Peggy murmurs. “Wakanda has a very different process than traditional monarchies around the world. They have a ruling tribe, the Panther tribe, which is the tribe that Prince T’Challa belongs to, but should King T’Chaka die, they will invite any challenger to fight for the mantle of King in ritual combat. So, now it is the Panther Tribe, but tomorrow, it may not be.”

“And my other alpha, M’Baku, he’s the leader of… of the Jabari tribe?” Tony remembers the bare bones of a file he’d received.

“Yes, he is. The Jabari isolated themselves a long time ago.”

“And now they’ve returned,” Tony guesses.

Peggy nods. “This is not only an attempt to broker peace between the US and Wakanda, but within Wakanda as well.” She touches Tony’s cheek. “So, you see, ducky, you might not be the only person terrified here.”

* * *

When Tony emerges from the jet, Peggy’s thin hand on his arm, there’s a line of women stretching out from the edge of the cargo door right to the palace that looms behind them, each holding terribly intimidating spears pointed out towards the sky.

Tony presses a hand to his belly, where it swoops.

In front of him lies a very beautiful family, King T’Chaka in front, escorted by his wife, Ramonda, with their children, T’Challa and young Shuri beside them.

Shuri is a girl of seven, with a gap between her front two teeth and hair in braided buns on either side of her head. She holds her brother’s hand and tugs at it, unable to stay on her feet for long.

Tony wisely doesn’t look at his future alpha.

Peggy smiles like sunshine at the king. “King T’Chaka.” She reaches out her hand to shake his.

The king’s lips twitch. “Director Carter,” he says, his voice heavily accented.

Peggy’s hand moves to his shoulder, gripping it firmly, before pushing it and him forward.

“My godson, Tony,” she introduces.

Tony grits his teeth and gives the king a belligerent smile. “Am I supposed to bow or-?” he trails off, expectantly.

The king and his son both snort, while Ramonda simply raises an eyebrow at him.

Tony wonders if she thinks he’s not good enough for her son; he wouldn’t, if he had any choice in the matter.

 _You and me both, sister_ , Tony thinks, bitterly.

“There is no need for that,” the king reassures. “We are thankful that you managed to arrive here safely.” He reaches out to pull the prince into view. “And my son, T’Challa.”

“Director Carter,” T’Challa acknowledges, inclining his head.

Tony concedes he gets points for that – if he’d disrespected his godmother, well, Tony might have committed an international crime when he put his foot so far up the prince’s arse that normal body functions would have become the bane of the man’s existence.

T’Challa turns his eyes onto Tony, then, and he’s ashamed at how easy his belly clenches at the weight of that dark gaze on him.

“Doctor Stark.”

Tony startles. Not many call him that, even if they’re aware of the fact that he has a PhD, let alone how many of them he has.

He clears his throat. “Prince T’Challa.”

T’Challa’s gaze is surprisingly warm, and the omega monster in his chest purrs in satisfaction.

“Please, call me T’Challa,” he murmurs.

Tony bares his teeth in a good imitation of a smile. “Only if you call me Tony.”

 _I’d like it if you didn’t call me anything. I’d like it if I could go home, not to my father, but to my apartment in Cambridge, with Rhodey_ , Tony wants to say, but bites his tongue.

“Tony, then.”

T’Chaka addresses Peggy directly, and Tony wonders if Wakanda as omega prejudice as well, or if they’re above the rest of the world in every way – Tony is only a little bitter, but in his defence, he’s been sold like a pair of kicks on Black Friday to make peace in a war he hadn’t even known existed, but that’s Howard Stark for everyone.

“The Jabari have not arrived yet,” he explains. “I have word that they will come soon, but they do like to make an entrance.”

Peggy grimaces. “Joy,” she drawls.

“You must be hungry,” T’Chaka says, pointedly. “It is a long journey from New York to our humble country.”

Tony scoffs, because he’s a reckless bitch. “Humble? Oh, please, I saw flying cars out there. There’s nothing humble about this place at all.”

He stares at the king defiantly, because, well, T’Chaka isn’t _his_ king, not yet, at least, and maybe, just maybe, if he pisses everyone around him off enough, they might be convinced to let him leave in disgrace ( _in glee_ ).

Instead of being angry at Tony’s risky comment, T’Chaka almost seems amused, even though Peggy shakes her head like she’d been expecting something of the sort from him all along.

“You may be right, Doctor Stark,” the King says, blithely.

Tony shrugs. “I was just saying, ‘humble’ seems to be an understatement.”

He’d die on his sword, if that’s what it took.

One of the guard steps away, towards the King.

“Your Highness,” she says, her voice low.

“Yes, Okoye?”

“The Jabari have arrived.”

Tony’s surprised to see T’Chaka and T’Challa grimace in dread.

 _Interesting_ , he muses.

“Very well,” T’Chaka declares. “I suppose we should go inside and meet our other guests.”

Tony looks at Peggy, expectantly, to see if the plan is that they’ll follow the royal family inside. All Peggy does is reach for his hand and squeeze, pulling him along.

He wonders if she’s realised he’d run if he could (she’d do it too – he learnt from the best).

“Take me to the chopping block,” Tony mutters under his breath.

Peggy gives him a severe look, but her eyes gleam with amusement.

“It’s not going to be that bad,” she insists.

Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow. “By all means, take my place,” he says, scathingly.

Peggy laughs.

Tony forces himself to betray how surprised he is at the inside of the palace. It’s beautiful and rich and _shit_ , Stark Mansion never had a goddamn chance (he wishes Howard was here, so he could see how abominably he fails, how lacking he is).

There’s a group of people in the throne room, when they arrive, all cloaked in grey-white fur and armour. The guards that stand by the entrance salute to their king and queen and prince and princess, before standing at attention, their spears pointed towards the ceiling.

Their stoic look reminds Tony of Peggy in the SHIELD barracks, reminds him of his mother at one of the Stark Industries Christmas parties, and it’s almost comforting to see such severity on a person.

The group in fur and armour turn around at their arrival, and there’s one big man at the front whose eyes go straight for Tony.

With a lurch of his heart, Tony realises this is M’Baku.

His belly clenches and shit, he might even be a little wet – fuck, he hates being an omega sometimes.

In his defence, this future alpha of his is built like a mack truck, with a thick head of hair and a beard, and fuck, Tony thinks he could bench press _him_.

“M’Baku,” T’Chaka greets.

M’Baku scowls like a thunderstorm, making a singular, offensive noise low in his chest. “King T’Chaka.”

Clearly, there is no love lost between the Jabari and the Panther tribe.

M’Baku’s dark eyes move onto Tony, who immediately feels like fidgeting, disliking being so easily immobilised.

“Is this him?” M’Baku demands.

Peggy, beside him, bristles.

“If you’re referring to your future omega, and my godson, then, yes,” she replies, coldly, taking a half step in front of Tony as if to guard him.

M’Baku takes his measure of Tony, as if he’s peeling him down to the root like tree bark, with needle-sharp eyes.

“He’s small,” he finally says, or more, grunts.

Tony reels back. “The _fuck_ did you just say to me?” he snaps.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so offended in his life.

“Tony,” Peggy begins, in a low tone, urging.

Tony shrugs himself free of her hand. “No, no, did he just-did he just call me _small_?” he says, angrily. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

M’Baku raises a brow.

_Small? I’ll show him fucking small._

“Look,” Tony bites out. “Just because you look like you’ve been chugging steroids like they come in fucking Coors party balls doesn’t mean you get to look down on me like I’m a fucking Hobbit, okay? And even if I was, fuck you, don’t height-shame me.”

M’Baku cocks his head. “I am, quite literally, looking down on you, so I do not understand,” he says, amused.

Tony narrows his eyes. “Oh, oh, fuck you, dude. Fuck you and the mack truck you change into every full moon.”

Someone starts slow-clapping and everyone turns to the girl of seven, Princess Shuri, with her hands clasped in front of her.

“What?” she reacts, defensively. “Short people are the future. They consume less food, use less fuel and more of them can fit on earth. They are basically eco-friendly humans.”

Tony wonders if it'd be terrible if he asked if he could marry her. He'd be happy with the long engagement.

“I like her,” he declares to Peggy. “She’s my favourite now.”

Peggy rolls her eyes.

Shuri looks smug. 

M’Baku chuckles, rumbling to life like an avalanche. “I like him. He has fire.”

“Wow, thank you for that glowing recommendation,” Tony says, sarcastically.

M’Baku turns to T’Chaka, impatiently. “When is this ceremony to take place?”

T’Challa takes a step forward, his jaw clenched at the insult to his father. “When it takes place,” he says, belligerently.

Tony sighs. “I cannot take the alpha testosterone anymore. Someone save me,” he says, dramatically.

Peggy glares at him. “Darling, I don’t think you’re helping right now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony folds his arms across his chest and lowers his voice. “Was I supposed to accept my forced bonding and sale into subjugation with good humour?”

Peggy sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Tony,” she says, wearily.

Tony grimaces. “Forget it. If I start whining about my sad life, I’ll never stop,” he says, sourly. He claps his hands together. “Now, are we doing this or what?”

Ramonda narrows her eyes. “There is a process to this in Wakanda. It does not _just_ happen,” she says, sternly.

Tony stares back at her, bravely. “I’m all ears. Let’s get this over and done with.”

* * *

The Dora Milaje, along with T’Challa and M’Baku, lead Tony to chamber with Peggy so that he can dressed for the ceremony. Things are done very auspiciously, ceremonially, here in Wakanda – Tony finds that odd yet somehow affirming; there is nothing ceremonious to the Starks.

“We will return to escort you to the Warrior Falls to be bound,” Nareema says, seriously. “Without the prince or Lord M’Baku.”

“Lovely,” Tony says, tightly.

“Wait,” Peggy interjects, sternly. “Before the prince and Lord M’Baku leave, I have some things I’d like to say, since after this, my godson will be bonded to the two of you.”

To their credit, T’Challa and M’Baku don’t shy away from his godmother – Tony will reluctantly give them both a point for that because Aunt Peggy is absolutely beautiful when fucking with people.

Nareema narrows her eyes. “You should be careful with what you say,” she warns.

Peggy meets her stare, defiantly. “I’ll say what I like,” she challenges. She turns to T’Challa and M’Baku. “This boy is very important to me, do you understand?” she says, coldly. “He is the closest thing I will ever have to a son. You will treat him well, or you will face me, and I am not as kind as he is.”

She says it so fiercely, so irrevocably, that Tony’s lungs are in his throat, so thick with grief.

He’ll never be more grateful for someone like Peggy loving him as she does, not when she doesn’t have to, not like his mother, who loves him but is so obligated by the fact that she brought him into this world and society demands that she love him.

He’ll never be more grateful that she’s here, when she doesn’t have to be, when Jarvis and Ana couldn’t be.

T’Challa and M’Baku take Peggy’s threats in stride and give her a grim nod, acknowledging her words, what they mean, what is demanded of them, but it isn’t enough for Tony, not yet, at least.

Peggy nods, stiffly, at the prince and M’Baku and the Dora Milaje, and Tony chooses to focus on the clothing laid out for him on the bed, unable to look away.

“Thank you,” Peggy drawls.

The band leave them alone in the bedchamber, allowing Peggy to sink into a soft chair with a little noise of pleasure.

“Bloody hell,” she hisses. “This might be the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”

Tony drags his hand over his face. “This place is really… something,” he says, lamely, reaching out to finger the rich black of the silk on top of the bed.

“You’ll look quite lovely in that,” Peggy comments.

“Yeah, I might as well look hot when I go to the hangman’s noose,” Tony says, dryly.

Peggy snorts. “You’re always so dramatic, ducky.”

Tony shrugs. “I try my best.” He hesitates. “Aunt Peggy, can you give me some time alone? I just… I want to try and come to terms with everything.”

Peggy’s eyes widen, the lines in her face softening. “Of course, darling,” she soothes, jumping to her feet.

She squeezes his shoulder and leaves, and Tony’s all alone.

He breathes a sigh of relief.

_I’m sorry, Aunt Peggy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be. I’m sorry I couldn’t do what you wanted me to do. I’m not as strong as you think I am._

He waits for a good five-ten minutes before nudging the door open just a sliver, pushing it wider when his first glance doesn’t spot anyone, a guard, a worker, lingering in the corridor. He creeps out, slowly, keeping himself pressed against the wall, retracing the steps they took with the Dora Milaje from the throne room, and diverging just enough that he heads straight for the hangar instead, hoping to make a quick escape in the jet they took.

Surprisingly, and much to his delight, he manages to make it to the hangar without being caught. Once he enters, he spots the jet they came on in the distance, unmanned and unguarded, to his relief.

“Freedom,” he sighs.

He starts to make a run for it.

“Far be it from us to deny you that.”

Tony closes his eyes. _Shit_.

He turns around, only to be faced with a stoic T’Challa and an angry-confused M’Baku.

“I can explain,” he says, quickly, going straight to his catchphrase when the shit hits the fan.

T’Challa cocks a brow. “I look forward to it.”

Tony shrugs. “I left my vibrator in there,” he says, simply, the words coming out like a taunt.

T’Challa’s lips twitch. “Yes, I imagine you would definitely want to retrieve _that_.”

M’Baku makes a surly noise. “You will not need that with us,” he says, confidently.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Cocky much, aren’t you?”

“Not if I know what will happen.”

Tony shakes his head.

Alphas, honestly.

When Tony looks back, he finds T’Challa staring at him.

“You did not know this was happening,” the prince says, quietly.

Tony shrugs. “I’ve known for about a week. If you were expecting me to have mysteriously come to terms with it, I’m going to disappoint you.”

“I know,” T’Challa says, gravely. “It is why I agreed to this.”

Tony stumbles at that. “What are you talking about?”

“When my father approached me with the arrangement, I was… initially uninterested.”

“I’m sorry, you were given a choice?” Tony has to ask, sourly.

“We do not force people into bondings in Wakanda,” T’Challa insists. “You should know that about us.”

“I was literally dragged out of my dorm room bed a week ago and told that I was going to be bonded to two Alphas in a different country that I’d never met before, and you think I had time to do my _research_?” Tony asks, incredulously.

T’Challa flushes and looks down at his feet.

Not for the first time, Tony’s struck by how tall he is, how tall both of his alphas are.

“I knew you were given no choice in the matter; omegas rarely have choice where you come from, but that is not what happens here. We have choice here. I wanted you to have that as well,” T’Challa murmurs.

“So, your solution was to bond with me, knowing that I was forced into it, so I’d escape a societal structure that forces omegas into things?” Tony asks, sceptically.

T’Challa rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Perhaps not the cleverest solution I could have come up with.”

Tony turns to M’Baku. “And you? Why did you agree to this?”

M’Baku shrugs. “I had no interest in a bonding, let alone an outsider. But the woman who came with you, she showed me a picture of you; you were at that school of yours and throwing a drink in some idiot’s face. I decided that you and I would make good, strong children, and that was enough for me.”

“Enough? You two hate each other,” Tony points out, ignoring the hot, lovely rush of pleasure at the thought of being speared on their cocks.

T’Challa and M’Baku exchange a look.

“We will learn how to tolerate each other,” M’Baku declares. “We will share an omega, and his children will be mine, and my children will be his. We will learn.”

Tony bites his lip raw, riddled with self-doubt.

“But you should not run,” M’Baku finishes, heavily.

“Why?” he asks in a small voice. “Give me one good reason not to.”

“Because we will be good to you,” M’Baku insists, his voice deep and affirming. “Because we will be better than any fool alpha you will find back in your ridiculous country. Because we will always give you a choice.”

T’Challa is silent, patient, until he isn’t. “Let us give you a choice, Tony. You are owed one.”

Tony stares back at the jet, wonders what lies on the other side, if it’s just more and more cages, and then looks back at his would-be jailors, his would-be alphas, and thinks this may be better, this may be how he lives.

“Okay.”


End file.
